Puzzled
by Captain Zaz
Summary: [Slash Incest] A collection of short stories from BttF
1. The Other Self

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A/N: Yeah….about this one. Don't ask, it's safer that way. Mild incest and slash, you have been warned!

The Other Self

Mary McFly was jealous of his other self at times. Concerts he didn't see, family vacation he didn't go to, yet, there they were pictures of him smiling brightly somewhere he doesn't remember.

Sometimes he can't stand it.. Everyone got to live a better life, but him. True, there are those memories that pull from the darkness of his mind, memories of things he knew he didn't do.

It was like waking from a dream, not sure of what is real or not. The biggest change, one that terrifies him, is George McFly.

He's happier yes, but in his eyes lay a long held sadness and Marty wonders who or what that's from.

At times he knows, when he catches his father looking at him with a strange bewildered look on his face. He's terrified of the idea that he keeps dormant in his head.

All those looks when he thinks Marty isn't looking. They aren't for him, per say, but for a Marty Klein back in the 50's.

Too bad Marty Klein and George's son were one in the same. Somewhere in his heart, Marty thinks his father knows this. Actions do speak louder than words, and those looks should not be shared between family.

At times he wonders. Wonders if George ever pleasured himself, thinking of Marty. And that thought, one that should be sickening, sent a shiver up his spine.

And when his father walked in he just smiled and wondered what was going through his mind. Causally he asked how his dad's day went and what he had done, as if none of the thoughts had ever touched his mind.

They talked for long minutes about mindless things that held no importance. All the while Marty wondered about his father, about the way he had changed him and what he did.

He kicked himself for being the fool, for changing things. It was better, true, but was it worth the pain just below the surface of his father's eyes.

He looked down and stared at his hands, trying to ignore the images that flashed so painfully into his mind. What he did was wrong, he changed the world for his convenience and made one of the people he loved suffer.

His father had stopped, for how long Marty didn't know. George just stared intently at his son, the pain flicking like a dying candle.

It hit him, George McFly, his father knew. He knew he was the same as the so called Marty Klein.

When the thin hands encircled his waist and brought him closer, Marty didn't even try resisting. He sunk into the comforting arms, the same arms that held him as a child when he had such strange nightmares, nightmares he didn't remember having.

A pang of guilt swept through him, but was diminished by the soft brushing of his father's lips on his own. And he fell. And everything else became a dim reminder that there was a world outside the two.

And Marty McFly was no longer jealous of his other self.


	2. Such Clichéd Moments

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A/N: Gah! It sounded nice in my head, it really did, but when I went to write it…It didn't work so well. It could be a helleva lot better, but meh. Same warnings as before, lovely slashy goodness.

Reviewer Time:

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**DrWorm****: **Yeah the unfocused ness bothers me, but I can't get it right. I would so fix it if my brain would agree with me. Thanks fer the review. You get a taco!

Such Clichéd Moments

At least once in his life, like every other man, he has stopped to question what went wrong in his life. It wasn't as if he life was horrible, quite the contrary. It was almost perfect, but every now and then he couldn't help but feel that he had failed his youngest son, Marty.

He always caught his son giving him the most terrifying look of resentment and regret. Those looks always confused George and provoked thoughts that were far from wholesome.

What bothered George most about his son wasn't the looks, it was his eerie resemblance from a Marty Klein almost four decades ago. That boy had been the star of many a sexual fantasy that was only eased by the soft caress of his own hand. During those times he had ran his hands over his body imagining they were not his own, but those of the boy who went as quickly as he came.

Eventually he got married and grew up, he even had three kids, but that didn't manage to dull the persistent fantasies. Sometimes, when he made love to his wife he would image the soft curves were replaced by the more angular ones of a certain male.

When he noticed his seventeen-year-olds uncanny resemblance to the Marty of his youth he tried to stifle the dreams, but there are times when he couldn't help wish the warm body curled next to him was the Marty from his past instead of his beautiful wife.

George felt sick because of his obsession with a boy he only knew for a week. It was a week though , that'll never fade from his mind. It was slowly getting to him, that itching notion and his son's resemblance to Mary Klein.

It was hilarious in sorts, when he realized that they were, in fact, the same. He couldn't help but think how strangely funny it was. He had waited and dreamed all these years and he had been here all the time. He was sick, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

So, when he gave in he didn't feel the expected pang of regret. And, when he gave in, greeting him with all the warmth that he had wanted everything seemed to fall nicely into the clichéd happily ever after. The same happily ever after that he had wanted back when he first met Marty Klein.


End file.
